


Whiskey Numbs the Pain

by Pineprin137



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Anger, Dean Winchester is a good big brother, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Protective Dean Winchester, Sad, Sam mourning Jess, Self-Medication, Survivor Guilt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, dean feels helpless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22867741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137
Summary: After Jessica's death, Sam attempts to drown his misery.orDean tries to save his little brother from himself.
Kudos: 35





	Whiskey Numbs the Pain

**Author's Note:**

> ***HEAVY ANGST AHEAD***
> 
> I've been in a rough headspace this last week and it's taking a toll on me. But, on the plus side, I'm now able to get back to some of my angstier fics... yay :\

Dean's attention was pulled away from the laptop by the familiar sounds of _Smoke on the Water_.

He rolled over on the lumpy mattress and snatched his phone from the nightstand. He peered at the number flashing on the screen and racked his brain. The area code matched the town they were staying in. 

Dean glanced at the clock and sighed before answering, "Yeah?"

Although it was quickly approaching midnight, Sam had yet to return to the room. When his brother announced earlier that he was going to head to the library to check on a few things Dean had accused him of using the library as a cover and instead 'checking out' the bar down the street.

Sam had acted all offended, but now, Dean is sure he was right. 

A tired voice spoke. Dean guessed it was probably the bartender.

“Hi there, I’m trying to get ahold of the person staying in... room two-oh-six at the motel on Downey?” 

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. Mostly from stress, exacerbated by sleep deprivation and annoyance. He'd had it off an on since Sam started having nightmares about Jess. 

“Yeah..."

When the young hunter said nothing more, there was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know a young man well over six-feet tall with shaggy brown hair and a bad attitude, would you?” 

_Dammit, Sammy..._ “What’d he do?” Dean asked tiredly. Taking care of his little brother had become a full-time job and he was exhausted. 

“Well, uh, nothing. ‘cept drink a few people under the table--” 

_Oh joy, drunk Sam... again._

“--so I just need to make sure he has a way to get home.” 

Dean swung his legs off the bed. “You’re at the bar off of the highway? Near the quick mart?” 

“Yeah, we’re right across the street next to the tire outlet.” 

He quickly calculated how long it would take him to get there. They weren't too far away, maybe half a mile or so.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” 

Dean hung up then tossed his phone onto the matress before rising and heading into the bathroom to splash some water on his face.

He got it, he did. Jessica's death had hit his brother hard. Sam was struggling with guilt and taking a page out of Dean's book, he had been attempting to drown his pain. 

Dean had tried to be understanding, but he could also recognize when things were getting out of hand thanks to life with an alcoholic father.

Sam was spiralling and it scared the shit out of him. His once optimistic studious brother now preferred to jump from hunt to hunt and hide out in bars instead of libraries. It was almost like Dean was living with another version of himself and it was getting to be too much. He loved his brother, but if Dean wasn't careful, Sam would end up dragging them both down. 

Once Dean pulled on his jeans and shoved his feet into his boots, he grabbed his jacket and keys then headed out. The cold air slithered its way up his sleeves and he let the mild annoyance build into a quiet anger that warmed him all over.

The door slammed when he slid into the Impala and he flinched before gently caressing the dashboard.

“Sorry, Baby.” 

The streets were bare as he drove through the small town, the rumble of Baby's engine the only sound in the silent night.   
  


Dean turned into the parking lot across from the obnoxiously bright Gas N' Sip . He couldn't help but shake his head when he finally caught sight of the bar. 

The El Rio Cantina looked exactly like one of the places the older Winchester would end up in. The parking lot was cracked and the neon sign blinked in and out. The din of drunken nomads could be heard even from the safety of the Impala.

The door creaked when Dean pushed it open. He ignored the curious stares and searched the bartop for a familiar head of floppy brown hair. 

Once he spotted his brother, Dean headed straight for him. The busty girl waiting tables tried to catch his eye, but Dean only gave her a small nod before he continued towards Sam. 

For once, Dean had no desire to spend the evening in a bottle. He’d been tucked in bed, cozy with the latest bootlegged episode of _Chopped_ when the bartender called. He was tired, he was hungry, and now he was annoyed. 

“You’re quickly becoming a pain in my ass. You know that, Sammy?” He said as he grabbed his little brother’s shoulder and spun him around. 

“F’ck ov, D’n.” 

“Wow. Okay, first of all, pretty sure that sentence should have a few more syllables in it. Second, watch your language. And last, no, I won’t be fucking off. Instead, I’m going to drag your sorry ass out to my car and drive you back to the motel where I will deposit your drunk ass in the bathroom. Can you guess what happens after that, Sammy?” 

Sam scowled and pointedly looked away. 

Dean grabbed Sam’s jaw and forced his brother to look at him. “I’m gonna hold your hair back while you throw up the unbelievably _stupid_ amount of booze you drank tonight and then I’m gonna put your sorry ass to bed.” 

“Go ‘way,” Sam slurred as he reached for his glass. 

“Oh, no, little brother. You’re _done._ ” 

Dean tossed back the rest of the whiskey and grappled with his drunk brother until he’d managed to get Sam up. After a quick look at the bottles behind the bartop, he pulled out his wallet and laid two bills on the counter. The bartender nodded and Dean supported Sam as they walked to the car. 

He let Sam lean against the side of the car while he opened the door then manhandled him into the passenger seat. A slap fight occurred when Dean deposited a plastic grocery sack in his lap. 

“Nn. Don’ wan’ id.” 

“Sam, so-help-me-God, if you puke in my car, I will leave your sorry ass on the side of the road! Now shut up, sit still, and take the goddamn bag!” 

“Y’ r mean.” Sam pouted as the Impala pulled out of the lot and back onto the road. 

“Damn right, I’m mean. I’m tired of this shit, Sam. I shouldn’t have to drag you from every godforsaken bar in every godforsaken podunk town we stay in! One of these nights they’re going to call and I’m just going to let you drink yourself stupid! Maybe then you’ll learn!” 

Dean’s rant was punctuated by the sound of rustling as Sam lifted the bag and threw up. 

Dean sighed as he pulled the car over and got out to help his brother. 

“Great. Just great. Fucking cherry on top of my night.” 

He pulled the passenger door open and jumped back just before Sam dumped the contents of the bag all over his boots.

“Dude! Don’t worry about the fucking bag. Just get out of the car before I yank you out.” 

Sam shuffled from the Impala with a tired sigh and walked the few feet to the weeds growing wild just above the ditch. 

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed the back of his brother’s jacket so he wouldn’t fall and waited while Sam loudly heaved several times only to cough up a minuscule amount of liquid. 

“Gonna save it all for later, huh? Not like you could just do it here and get it over with. No, you want to spend the entire night on the bathroom floor. Awesome. Thanks for that, Sam.” 

Once he had Sam settled in the car, Dean walked around and got back in. 

God, all he wanted was to get back to the room, kick his boots off, shuck his jeans and crawl into bed. But no, he was probably going to up until dawn taking care of his idiot brother. 

His anger faded as bone-deep exhaustion started to take over. He was glad to pull into the parking lot, pretty sure his eyes had drifted closed a few times during the last mile. Sam had fallen into a somewhat fitful sleep, his head against the window and his hands clenching the stupid bag. He’d been whimpering, but nothing severe enough to convince Dean to wake him from the much-needed sleep. 

Dean actually had to pull himself up when he exited the car this time and he smothered a yawn in his sleeve while looping Sam’s arm across his shoulders. Sam barely woke long enough to assist in walking to the door. Once they made it inside he abandoned Dean to collapse on the nearest bed… Dean’s bed. 

“Aw, c’ mon. Why can’t you pass out on your own bed? I had that one exactly how I like it…” Dean groused as he walked over to the other bed and situated it so both pillows were on one side and the sheet was untucked from the mattress. 

Realizing that Sam was down for the count till his hangover kicked in, Dean placed the bathroom trash can on one side of the bed and the one from beneath the window on the other side. Then, knowing that accidents were likely to happen, he covered each side of the bed with a threadbare towel. Only then did he remove his boots and jeans and lie down. 

Getting up not even ten seconds later to position his little brother’s body so he wouldn’t end up choking on his own liquid regret if Dean didn’t wake up soon enough. 

_Three hours_. 

Dean managed three hours of not-even-close-to-restful sleep before he was awoken by the sound of Sam either falling off the bed or knocking something over as he stumbled toward the bathroom. His brother didn’t even bother closing the door just dove for the toilet. 

Dean had prepared the bathroom before he went to bed as well. The lid and seat out of the way, the last pathetic towel folded on the floor in front of the toilet, glass of water and Tylenol on the counter. 

He listened to see if he was needed. Although the purging was ridiculously loud, it was also blessedly short-lived. After only four heaves, he heard shuffling noises before the toilet flushed. There was a small scratching sound followed by the _tink_ of the glass on the edge of the sink then Sam walked back over to the bed. Except the bed he came from wasn’t his bed. Because his bed was occupied. 

Dean rolled over so he was facing his confused brother. His eyes were still closed though. 

“What?” Dean asked tiredly. 

“Why are you in my bed?” 

Sam had the audacity to sound offended. Dean mentally rolled his eyes. Oh for crying out loud! Couldn’t he catch a break? 

“Because you decided to pass out on mine.” 

“Oh.” 

Dean waited. 

“Can I have--” 

Dean interrupted him, “Sam, it’s the middle of the night. Just get in the fucking bed and go to sleep.” 

Sam crawled back into Dean’s former bed, mumbling, “Geez. No need to be so mean…” 

The last of Dean’s patience vanished. 

“Fine! You want this bed? Take it! I’ll sleep in the damn car!” He dramatically flung the covers off and swung his feet to the floor. 

Sam sighed. “Dean, stop. I’m fine here. I was just confused.” 

But Dean was on a roll, angrily shoving his boots back on and grabbing his jacket. “No! You wanted the damn bed so take it! After all, it’s all about Sammy, isn’t it?! So go on, take it. It’s what you wanted!”

Sam sat up in bed. 

“Dean, what the hell is going on with you?” 

“Wow. Just… wow.” Dean said, opening the door. At the last minute though he turned around and faced his brother. 

“You know what, Sam? Fuck you.” The door slammed shut. 

Dean stormed over to Baby and wrenched the door open, slid into the driver’s seat. His fingers flexed against the leather of the wheel as he clenched his fists. Anger and remorse fought inside him. He dropped his head to the wheel and focused on taking deep breaths. 

He may be pissed at Sam’s continued behavior, but he also understood it. He’d done the same thing after Sam left for Stanford. Although, Dad hadn’t been as understanding. John had allowed his eldest son three days of wallowing before he ordered Dean to suck it up and move on. 

_Sam made his choice, Dean. And now there are people dying because you can’t get your shit together._

Dean snorted. John had been a master of denial. And in those few years of Sam’s absence, Dean had learned to do the same. 

But it wasn’t him, this time. No, it was Sammy. The nightmares, the drinking. It had to stop. Sam had to realize that Jess was gone and she wasn’t coming back. No matter what his little brother did, she was gone. 

Dean moved so his back was against the door, one foot on the seat, the other resting on the floor. 

He wasn’t angry at his brother. Sam was mourning. He didn’t hold that adjust him. Not really. No, in truth, Dean felt helpless. 

His little brother was hurting and there was nothing he could do to fix it. 

Dean awoke to the sound of the passenger door opening. He lifted his head and blinked at his brother. 

Sam bent down so he could make eye contact and held up the tray in his right hand. “I brought a peace offering.” 

“For?” Dean asked as he took one of the coffee cups. He took a long sip and moaned. Damn, he needed that. 

Sam slid into shotgun before he spoke. “Dean, I’m sorry. I know that recently I’ve been a little...off--” Dean snorted. Sam gave him the bitchface, then continued. 

“It’s just… Jess was my world for so long and then when I realized it was the same thing that killed mom-- God, I’m just so angry, Dean. I could have saved her--” 

“No. You couldn’t.” 

Sam looked over at him, his face a mix of betrayal and anger.

Dean sighed and righted himself in his seat. He set his coffee cup in the holder and turned the key in the ignition. The Impala rumbled to life, purring in Neutral. 

“Sammy, you couldn’t save her. Even if you had been there-- what would you have done?” 

“Fought it off! Got her out of there! Something!” 

Dean shook his head as he turned the wheel and drove towards the highway. 

“Dad has been hunting that damn demon for _years_ , Sam. He’s the best we know and he still hasn’t been able to get it.” 

He glanced over at his brother. 

“Sammy, even if you had been there… She would still be gone. Jessica still would have died.” 

“You don’t know that!” 

“I do. I know that the only thing that would’ve changed is that you _maybe_ would have gotten a look at the thing that killed her. More likely? You would be dead too.” 

“Don’t you get it, Dean? That’s what should have happened! It should’ve been me, not her!” Sam began to sob and it became harder to decipher what his little brother was saying. 

“The only reason it went after her was because of me. If she wasn’t with me-- if she didn’t know me-- She would still be alive, Dean. It’s my fault Jess’s dead…” 

Not liking the dark turn their conversation had taken, Dean pulled the car onto the shoulder and shut it off. He opened his door and got out, walked around and opened the passenger door. Dean crouched down in front of his brother, placed both hands on either side of Sam’s face. 

He waited until Sam’s hazel eyes focused on his face. 

“This is _not_ your fault. Do you hear me? The _only_ one who is to blame is the thing that killed her.”

He moved one hand to Sam’s shoulder and squeezed. “We’re going to get this thing, okay? We’re going to find a way to end that son of a bitch once and for all. But until that happens? You have to _stop_. The drinking-- the anger is going to kill you, Sammy.” 

He’d pushed too far. Dean saw it in the way Sam began to close off, pull away. 

Dean sighed as he stood back up, got back in the car and pulled back onto the road.

He prayed that at least some of it had gotten through to Sam. Because if not, this was one time he wouldn’t be able to save his little brother. 


End file.
